The Sanctum was clearly more than even the exaggerations of her people's stories, because Shira gaped as we rode across the Narrows, a slender bridge crossing the frothing River Salh as it wound its twisting way around. The plunge off the side of the bridge was a hundred foot chasm with water roiling so furiously as to be white all the way around. It was a formidable natural barrier, one enhanced in certain ways by the area. All around us was a blighted landscape, gray and ashen covered by a perpetual chill. The plants that survived were pale and twisted things, even the flowers that bloomed already rotting by the time they spread their petals. The path to the Sanctum's great gate was lined with dying roses and dark, needle-like thorns.

Towers of white glass rose from the barren slopes of the mountains, built into the side of a great cliff. Some floated above, anchored by bridges and connecting towers, all intricately woven together to form a city that rose as high in the sky and deep in the ground as it spread in the cardinal directions. It was a massive citadel, with an outer wall of seamless basalt that rose a hundred feet high, studded with defensive towers. Each tower bore a set of sigils carved in a vertical line on the interior side that connected it to the network of wards and magical defenses the King in Black had woven to endure every assault by gods and mortals alike.

I smiled faintly as we passed through the Obelisk Gate, carved to look like the great maw of some grinning skull, with sharp adamantine teeth that closed behind us as a combination of portcullis and doors. Just inside was the obelisk it was named for, a towering hunk of gleaming silver metal engraved with scenes of undead triumph. Above us in the sky, a great aurora with shades of blue to green to purple burned in the sky as magic radiating from the wards danced to illuminate the world below. In the morning, the sun would shine so weakly through the clouds, designed to protect the more sensitive undead, that even midday seemed barely dawn. At night the sky was far more striking and clear.

The Sanctum was fairly chaotic at the moment, with an army flooding in to resume their various lives. I nudged Tavuus with my knees, directing him over another bridge to a higher section of the cliff, back to the stables. They were kept away from the mindless undead, tended to by the human servants who made their homes here. Those who served the King in Black of their own volition were paid and treated well. He cared very little about what they did with their own lives, mundanely beneath him, but had laid down laws that prohibited the undead from simply devouring them.

There were plenty of different living groups who had come to his banner: the wild berserkers of the northern reach and their stormcallers, the arcanists who might have been burned as witches, the acolytes and priests of the Dark Mothers who praised necromancy and its wielders, and the houses of nobility who fell in the civil war that divided Rusa from the Eternal Kingdom. There were even a few wyrms who kept lairs in the mountains nearby, treating with the King in Black as if he was one of their number.

Captives were a different arrangement. Like all mortals, they were ants to the King in Black, but they were also enemies. He was willing to leave their fates to the whims of his generals. Hallen would probably execute his prisoners quickly and relatively painlessly after gaining as much information as possible with Luka's help. Those captured by Rhandiir, Varys, and Teth could expect far less pleasant ends. Maric had already let his soldiers tear apart the mortals they'd captured on the road, never one for delayed gratification.

Once we were inside the stables and away from the undead, Shira's grip on me eased. Something about the familiar warmth, smell of animals, and the sudden appearance of human servants put her at ease. I sighed and patted Tavuus. Even without battle, it had been a long day and he deserved to rest. I swung down from the horse and looked up at Shira.

She froze under my gaze as if I was some basilisk.

"Come down." Even as I spoke with that same hint of chill, I held out a hand to help her down.

Her fingers curled around mine for a very brief moment, warm and soft. It was the touch of a healer's hand, not a warrior's. I frowned deeply, less in disapproval of her and more at the fragility of such a thing being doomed in a place like this: a subtle sorrow, the same one feels as they let the petals of a rose fall apart in their fingers.

As soon as she was on the ground, I pulled my hand away and turned to face the stablemaster. "Aldous, how have things been?"

The towering old man grinned as he bowed, showing teeth that had been filed to points. "Quiet, my lady." His eyes turned to Shira, inquiry clear in his expression.

If ever there was a gossip, it was Aldous. The less I said about her, the longer she would evade Varys's clutching hands. "This is Shira. She doesn't speak."

"Blade got her tongue, my lady?" He tried to look sympathetic, but Aldous really only cared about horses. He was much more ready to use a whip on a person than on a beast of burden. The victims of my cruelty seldom received even his pity, as he saw me as placing them where they were deserved.

"Something like that." I handed him the reins to Tavuus and then untied Woe from the saddle, returning my sword to its proper seat at my hip. "Try not to spoil him too rotten. I'd still like a warhorse when you're done."

He had the gall to wink at my horse, already pulling an apple out of one pocket. "No promises, my lady."

I caught Shira by her wrist and pulled her through the stables, out the back door. The Street of Broken Sky stretched out ahead of us, populated by the humans who made their home in the Sanctum. It took its name from the paving stones, glassy bricks that reflected back the sky in rough, crack-filled approximations of its real beauty. The effect was stunning, though: it looked like the aurora was playing across the street like it would on the surface of a lake or river. Here she was less obvious and at least somewhat safer. Not safe for certain, however. The vampire lords were not permitted in the quarter by edict of the King in Black, but their spies were certainly present.

Shira was wide-eyed and quiet as I pulled her along the street, which was probably the closest thing to normal she'd seen since being taken. The people made it anything but, however: arcanists practicing openly in the street, barbarians ripping into each other with claws and teeth outside a bar, alchemists and apothecaries crowding the place to sell their wares to their fellow humans who feared undeath and the undead themselves alike, and the fearsome wyrm-blooded with their strange eyes and dull patches of scales.

I kept pulling her until we reached the end of the street, where a delicate archway marked the grounds of the Winter Palace, though it was really more just a piece in the complex of the palace that belonged to the King in Black. Most importantly, it was my piece. The servants who served here had been picked by my hand and no other, something that had secured me my sanctum sanctorum, a place where the other generals could not push their influence so overtly. They were not even permitted entry except with my consent.

They had spies, of course, and I had spy-catchers. There was always a ready pretext to be rid of one or the other. Occasionally one such spy stepped too far and was executed, but most I either let go from my service or politely asked Luka to make them disappear. What happened to them after that point was not my concern.

It was quiet and still in the Winter Palace, late enough at night that only the wights were up and about. Many of them took the tasks of cleaning and any labor that required heavy lifting, while the humans who made their homes within my home did things like cooking and artisan work. Haven met me at the door to my private chambers, stepping out. The wight still had the hungry look of all his brethren, but was much more controlled than Vex. He even kept his claws trimmed short and even. "Welcome home, Lady Frostborn," he said with a deep, sweeping bow. "I took the liberty of running you a hot bath."

"You know me so well," I said, flashing him a smile equal parts relieved and pleased. "While I'm getting cleaned up, would you please have Ember service my armor?"

"Of course," Haven said, his rasping voice even and measured. He turned dark eyes to Shira. "And for your companion?"

"She needs a bath as well and clean clothes. Melody can take her measurements in the morning."

The wight nodded ponderously. "Quarters?"

That I had yet to decide on. "She will remain here until I have settled on a better solution," I said simply. "You know I hardly sleep in that bed anyway."

Shira looked at me as though I'd sprouted a second head and flicked her fingers. I raised an eyebrow and made a mental note to have Vex brief me on at least the basics of signing.

My response was blunt. "I don't understand you." I turned back to Haven. "I need a volunteer from the Sashes to serve as her bodyguard when she is not under my protection. Someone who understands her mode of speech."

"Of course, my lady." I could tell Haven was puzzled, but he was not a creature who would argue with my orders. If I asked him to jump off a cliff, he would take the plunge head first. I knew to treat my people well, the undead included. That was more than anyone except Luka could truly say. Even Naltheme considered her servants as experiments just waiting for a theory.

I stepped inside my quarters. They were far more comfortable than I was entirely suited to: a sitting room with a dining table to one side and couches draped in crimson cloth arranged around a fireplace to the other. Thick rugs added warmth to the stone floor and tapestries decorated the wall, pieces of priceless art taken as spoils in war. A single one was out of place, common wool woven and dyed instead of extravagant silk. It was my favorite, depicting a tree going through the four seasons, starting with spring on the left and ending in winter on the right. My mother had worked on it for months and months, just for me.

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Every time I looked at it, I missed her, but also felt a singular warmth.

Down the hall was my bedroom, an armory, a bathroom, a training room, and the last door at the far end led out to a garden space. The last was normally barren, but I saw a faint golden glow coming through the glass of the window-like door, not completely obscured by the curtains.

I pulled Shira through the living room and opened the door to the bedroom. The door let out a loud creak of protest. The bed was altogether too large for just me, but I kept it to remember the days when love had ruled my heart and body instead of just my soul. The bedspread was simple, just a dark ruby wool over silk sheets. A fireplace burned fragrant pine to one side, the flames licking over the wood but never consuming it, with the fur of a great dire wolf spread on the floor beside it. The other side had a closet with rows of neatly folded outfits and a basin full of steaming water.

"Wash up. You can take a proper bath after I'm done," I said firmly. "You will sleep in my bed tonight."

She shivered in fear, no doubt remembering Varys.

I turned to face her. "I will not lay a finger on you like that, Shira." When she looked at me wide-eyed, I sighed in frustration. "I am not the creature who took you. Now do as I have said."

Shira nodded and stepped into the bedroom, looking around at the paintings of nature scenes that decorated the walls. Many were taken from conquered noble estates or commissioned from artists swept up into the Eternal Kingdom. I loved the beauty of nature that existed beyond the dull gray of the Sanctum, unspoiled and serene like the mountains I once called home.

I stepped into the bathroom, Haven on my heels as I stripped out of my filthy attire. Between battle and the long ride, grime clung in a layer to my body. My face was arguably the worst, smudged with ash and blood.

"You are wounded, my lady," Haven observed as I finished undressing.

I glanced down at the ugly gash on my thigh, carefully tended to and stitched up by Vex. To me, it was just another scar on the rough topography of my body. I had endured so many battles, so many duels, so many attempts to end me. One does not go through a life like mine unscathed. "It has mostly closed. Just go carefully around it."

Haven nodded and motioned for me to sit on the wooden bench beside the bath. He dipped a scrub brush in a basin of steaming, soapy water and then used it to scrub away the dirt and blood so I would be clean when I went to the bath. I let out a sigh as the bristles soothed the muscles in my back. It was half a scrubbing, half a massage. Haven always knew right where the pain points were and how to soothe them.

"Is she staying long?" he asked as he worked, periodically dipping the brush and moving around me in an effort to get every last bit of filth.

"Presumably. She will be with us until she is ransomed back to her people." I closed my eyes and let my shoulders finally relax as he started on my neck, brushing over the muscles as tight as wires.

He immediately noticed the tension. It was out of the ordinary for me, a thing that existed only when I battled a Chosen One. "You have been clenching, my lady."

"I killed a boy," I said bitterly. "A boy who should have been safe on his farm, marrying his sweetheart and living a quiet life."

Haven nodded, bringing the brush down my back in a soothing motion even though he had already cleaned off the streaks there. "All mortals die, my lady. At least you usually make it quick and painless."

"There is a difference between a flower fading after a glorious prime and cutting away the bloom while it is still in a bud."

His dexterous fingers quickly undid the braids in my hair. He combed every tangle out methodically before adding soap and massaging it into my scalp. It felt so good to be taken care of for just a little while, the weight of everything easing. I trusted Haven implicitly, a rare thing in our situation. The wight knew me better than even Vex did, responsible for little moments like these.

By the time he dumped the water over my head, washing everything else away, I was so relaxed that I felt like melting into the floor. I rose and stepped over to the bath, descending down the carved marble steps into the heated pool. I knew I couldn't soak too long with Shira in my room. She'd need the bath too. Still, I sank into the wonderful mineral water that bubbled like a spring, enjoying this little piece of self-indulgence far more than anything else in the Winter Palace. It was always a nice feeling after a long bout of training.

Haven cleaned up the mess I'd left on and around the bench, chasing the dirty water into drains with a mop. "Shall I fetch the girl, my lady? She needs a bath more than you did. She stinks of vampire."

I heard the distaste in his voice and grinned despite myself. "Varys's cologne is quite obnoxious, isn't it?"

"It offends the senses," Haven agreed gravely. He set the mop aside once the area was clean, dark eyes watching me in the bath.

I reluctantly moved out of the stream of water moving beneath the surface, back towards the stairs to climb out. After Shira's experience with Varys, I doubted she would trust any undead hands on her, particularly a stranger's. "I doubt she's ready to be taken care of in the same way, Haven. Varys's charms haven't improved."

He pursed his thin lips. "She is not dirtying the bath. Shall I wake Melody?"

I shook my head. "I'll do it. Worst case scenario, I have to hold her down while I'm scrubbing."

Haven nodded. He had a very different understanding of my position than Vex did: he knew how much I hated to be elevated onto a pedestal, which was an unfortunately common experience now. He was my caretaker and confidante, not my servant. Even the honorific became something more like a nickname. "I will fetch her, then, my lady."

I dried myself off with a towel and quickly pulled on the clean clothes waiting for me: a soft woolen tunic and pants. I rolled up the sleeves to my elbows and then rolled up the pants to above my knees. It only took me a moment to sort through the brushes that Haven laid out for me, finding clean ones. Then I refilled the bucket, adding soap and stirring ferociously to create a foam.

The wight reappeared, his hands gently gripping Shira's shoulders as he guided her into the room. "Is there anything else you require, my lady?"

I let my gaze drift over Shira, trying to take her measurements at a guess. "Go borrow some of Melody's clothes for her. They're about the same size."

Haven nodded and vanished out the door, leaving the frightened priestess alone with me.

I sighed, well aware I probably would have to hold her down. "This is a traditional Shana'ai bath. It is custom for you to wash before entering the bath itself. Undress and come here."

Shira froze.

I picked up a scrub brush and motioned to the seat on the bench. "I am not going to harm you, but if you are sleeping in my bed, you are not doing it covered in dirt. You can either undress of your own free will, or I will do it for you. I promise you I have no compunctions about ruining my own clothes."

The priestess nodded hesitantly and then undressed. The bruising and scrapes from Varys's mistreatment were far more plentiful than I'd realized. The wounds on her wrists were definitely the worst, but he had been rather thorough. Dried blood streaked down her back where he had dug in his pointed nails most fiercely. She tried to shrink into herself and cover everything, so I turned my gaze away to grant her some modicum of privacy.

"Sit," I said firmly.

She sat with her back to me, allowing me to scrutinize the damage to her skin. I set aside the brush and picked up a neatly folded washcloth, dipping it into soapy water. I let it soak and then wrung it out. Instead of scrubbing at her back the way Haven had mine, I worked my way gently around and over those wounds, listening to the sound of her breathing for cues to pain. She was stiff as a board as I worked, at least at first. Slowly, as I wiped away more and more of the blood and memories of Varys's touch, she relaxed.

I followed the lines of knotted muscle in her shoulders with a gentle pressure, kneading away some of the fear's power, then down her arms, stopping at the edges of the bandages. Then I reached over Shira's shoulder, handing her the washcloth. "Finish cleaning up. We'll deal with your hair once I have fresh bandages for those wounds."

Shira turned her head, looking up at me with luminous, conflicted eyes. She signed at me again, almost automatically.

I sighed impatiently. "I cannot understand you," I reminded her before turning away to the cabinet. Haven tended my wounds here often after baths, so there was plenty of spare gauze and infection-cleansing ointment around. I rummaged through the cabinet, retrieving supplies and placing them on the far side of the bench where they would stay dry.

When I turned back, she curled away from me, a sign I took to mean she was clean enough.

Her mahogany hair was much wilder than mine. I dipped the comb over and over, picking out each tangle with care not to tug. Shira sat so still she almost seemed like a wight, in the perfect motionlessness of the dead. Still, I knew what I was doing almost as well as Haven did.

The tasks that had once been so hateful to me were rather enjoyable when I did them on my own terms.

Soon I could switch to the brush, smoothing out Shira's hair with a gentle touch. The way she relaxed was visible. I ruined it by dumping the bucket over her head with little warning, just as Haven always did to me. She sputtered, but made no other sound, and looked up at me again with wide eyes, arms crossed to cover herself.

"Into the bath," I ordered. When she flinched at the harshness in my voice, I softened a touch. "You may come out whenever you like. Haven should be back with clothing for you soon. I am going to sleep."

I left her to melt into the baths in privacy, grabbing a few spare blankets off the table in the hall. My feet took me back to my bedroom. I pulled back the covers for Shira, well aware that Haven made the bed like a military man. Better I do it now, as amusing as it would have been to watch her struggle to untuck the covers. It required rather more strength than most people expected.

My normal sleeping mat had already been rolled out for me beneath the window, where the cold draft blew in. I laid down on the thin padding that mimicked a bedroll nicely and settled down, adjusting my clothing to be more comfortable. Then I pulled Woe against my chest, the cold metal of the sword warmed by my body. I curled around it and let myself drift into the light slumber that was all I could manage anymore.

Shira would either come to bed under her own power or Haven would put her there with his forceful politeness. Either outcome suited me just fine.